


Composed In Thin Air

by piginapoketuesday



Series: La Mia Vita Con Te (a Hannigram series) [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bondage, Canon Compliant, Gentle Sex, Hannibal is Hannibal, Kissing, Light Bondage, M/M, Neck Kissing, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Sub Will Graham, Threats of Violence, Topping from the Bottom, fantasies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-26 00:36:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4983052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piginapoketuesday/pseuds/piginapoketuesday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will and Hannibal find each other delicious, and an exposed throat is always so inviting. Canon-typical gentle cruelty ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Lying together, bloodied and pliant, Will confessed something to the bare-chested man beneath him.

"In my dream, when I cut you, you opened your throat for me." He nuzzled gently at the conjunction of Hannibal's chin and neck.

The doctor smiled and lay his head back loosely on the pillow. Will ran his thumb over the warm and inviting skin. He closed his eyes and lowered his mouth slowly to the soft hollow—

A hand in his hair jerked his head back. His eyes opened abruptly to find Hannibal looking at him like a predator with his teeth hovering over a still-beating, doomed heart.

"And when I cut you, dear Will. When I spilled you for my pleasure. You opened your throat for me, as well." Hannibal drew a careful fingertip across Will's quivering Adam's apple. "What a delicious boy you are."

Will whimpered, his scar burning and his cock swelling in his boxers.

Hannibal released his hair and pressed his lover's head to his chest. "I still find it difficult to allow your teeth at my neck." He ran his long fingers through Will's curls, calming his anxious heart.

"Likewise," Will mumbled.

The older man chuckled. "I slayed the dragon, yes, but were I to taste your throat, I'd prepare it with butter and mussels, in a light wine sauce."

He felt Hannibal's hand toy beneath his chin and imagine his friend's tongue licking butter from his opened trachea. "Sounds excellent," he said.

“Do you fear my mouth, Will?” The words vibrated through both of their bodies.

“I would be a fool not to.”

Gingerly—as they were both so wounded—Hannibal turned them over in bed. He laid Will against the pillows and propped himself up on his elbows. His naked chest, thrumming with his heart, felt immediately cold without the heat of Will Graham against it. “Perhaps you’d let me quiet your fears.”

Will’s lidded eyes were full of lust and doubt. “Dr. Lecter, your particular form of persuasion has led me to the conclusion that my body is not my own.” Parts of his sentence were almost a sneer, but he seemed resigned.

“I will not kiss you unless you ask me to,” Hannibal reassured him. “I can always play the harpsichord for you instead.”

The professor’s smile was bitter and full of irony. “And remind me you can make me sing without a proper touch.”

Hannibal’s eyes were like a bloody stream. “I only ever exact a proper touch.”

Though his cock twitched, Will laughed. “I’m certain you do.” He paused. “I won’t deny the aching hardness you must feel against your thigh. Exact away, doctor.”

Smiling, Hannibal dipped his head and slipped his hand beneath Will’s neck to lift him boneless from the bed. With Will’s throat exposed like a wounded stag, the tiger pressed his lips to the delicate curve and kissed.

Will half expected the ripping of teeth. Instead, he was held in a lover’s embrace as his vulnerable flesh was suckled and adored. He wanted to remain there forever, suspended and open for Hannibal’s mouth, his untouched sex filling with blood that the doctor could no doubt smell.

Hannibal swallowed despite himself and placed a final kiss in Will’s hollow. “Undone for me already. And I’ve barely begun.”

Eyes closed, Will managed to whisper, “Composed in thin air.”


	2. Chapter 2

His neck glistening with saliva, Will couldn’t stop himself from shifting his hips to press his bulge against the solid crotch of Hannibal’s trousers. He groaned softly at the pressure, enraptured at the very idea of being beneath his sadistic love.

“My pliant Will,” Hannibal said huskily, lust coiling in his belly and a predatory urge melding with genuine tenderness toward the man in his bed. “Would you like me to touch you?”

Will smirked, still himself despite the blush of arousal coloring his throat. “Will I have to beg you, Dr. Lecter?”

Hannibal’s hands kneaded gently into Will’s chest, grazing his nipples every so often. “I’m afraid I must insist.”

He smiled at first, then swallowed as the thought of pleading with Hannibal brought up memories of Abigail. Their hands clasped together. Lifting her chin. Betrayer and betrayed melting into one. Rivers of blood. His own fingers slipping away from the gush.

But the past had passed. He was here, slick with kisses from a cannibal’s tongue, and some things were simply to terrible to admit. Lie with the devil and you may become him. Accept his pleasure and you’ll learn to love him. It was too much, for the moment, to let slip away.

Will took Hannibal’s hand and guided it down his belly, over his dark scar, and lower to the desperate organ between his legs. He looked into fervent maroon eyes. _Those whites are really white. _“I beg you.”__

Hannibal’s hand moved of it’s own accord and palmed him through his boxers. “Tell me, Will, your fantasies about me.”

The professor gulped visibly, feeling vulnerable as his legs opened for his psychiatrist. “I . . . I fantasize I am tied to your desk. You . . . ah . . . strip me, play with me . . .”

“How do I play with you?” Hannibal’s hand slipped under the waistband of Will’s boxers and began to fondle his bare cock.

Will sucked in a breath. “You tie me intimately, touch me until I am weeping for release, tease—AH!” He felt Hannibal’s thumb press against his slit. “Tease me there.”

Hannibal smiled.

“I tell you I can’t bear it, that I am bursting, but you pick up pencil and paper and start drawing . . .”

“Your body?” The question is punctuated by the slow stroke of Will’s member.

Hesitation. Swallow. Flinch. “Yes. I feel you watching me. Your pencil outlining my intimate parts. I twitch and moan, and you trace my suffering body expertly, down to the drip of arousal making it’s way along my shaft.”

Hannibal can imagine the scene. His love, immobilized and ready, gasping as he works. The dark sleeve of his favorite suit smoothing the paper. The titillating curve of Will’s neck, stomach, thigh—

“That is a tempting fantasy. Perhaps one day we shall recreate it.” He increased the pace of his gliding fingers, squeezing along every inch of warm flesh.

Will tried to smile, though his eyes kept rolling back into his head in rapture. “If you like . . . that . . . you should hear . . .”

He didn’t quite finish his sentence.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hush, Will. Shh." Hannibal pressed a kiss to the gasping lips as he rubbed the evidence of Will's orgasm into his scarred belly. He kissed the sweating temples and forehead. "Shh."

Will was of two minds. One reeled in revulsion at having been touched so poignantly by the devil. The other felt that touch melt into his skin and warm him like butter over a low fire. The overload of sensation was unbearable.

"Did you . . . did you render Alana this undone . . ." He sounded broken.

Hannibal smiled. "She did not experience the cognitive dissonance that my touch brings you. You're afraid of the implications." He kissed along Will's jaw and throat, lips supple and eager, pulling graciously at the skin they sought.

Will almost begged him to bite. Anything to relieve the welling shame and lust that pooled beneath Hannibal's tongue. "And Bedelia?"

"I believe she would have rather liked to take me in her mouth, if only to reduce me to a man. And to draw blood."

Will swallowed but never guarded his neck. "I still dream of drawing blood."

"Of course you do," Hannibal murmured. "Though, I must request that next time, you have a bit more creativity."

The professor cocked his head. "I thought our Reichenbach had a certain flare to it."

"You can do better."

"Perhaps I'll strangle you in the night, Doctor. Simple. Clean."

"And you would live up to your promise."

A familiar crooked, bitter smile crossed Will's face. "To use my hands."

Hannibal slid his hand beneath the covers and clasped Will's fingers in his own. "Use them wisely."


End file.
